I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree
by KayteeCUTLASS
Summary: DeanXJohn. Basically John's POV, he recalls how and when Dean first made that first move and is desperately trying to decide whether or not to act on it. Dean and John are father and son which means incest. Don't read if that upsets you


**Title:** I Guess The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The Tree.  
**Author:** Katie Louise Garner.  
**Fandom:** Supernatural.  
**Pairing:** Dean/John.  
**Rating:** NC-17.  
**Warnings:** Father and son, which means incest. Underage sexual indications, not full intercourse though. Some language.  
**Summary:** When Dean was fifteen he made a move on his Dad. John, being the sensible adult, did the right thing and ignored it. Not, upon contemplation, John's not sure whether to follow his feelings.  
**Disclaimer:** All characters because to the CW/WB.  
**Notes:** Feedback greatly appreciated. :)

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**I Guess The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The Tree.**

The first time it happened Dean was only fifteen. I had been lying in bed, an empty bottle of vodka lay along the bedside table threatening to roll off and shatter on the floor. The whole room was pitch black, and spinning, when I felt a body get under the covers next to me. In my drunkeness I had thought nothing of it. I wanted to beleive it was Mary next to me, the arm around my torso, the bare skin rubbing again my back belonged to her. It wasn't until the next morning that I realised that I should have been sleeping alone. In a state of shock I rolled over to see him sunken into the pillow next to me. His eyes were lightly closed, long eyelashes almost touching the skin underneath his eyelids. His hair hung messily over his face, glistening in the morning sunlight that crept in through the window.

Anger ran through me at first. I hadn't brought him up to be like this, to come _cuddle_ with his dad in bed at nights. I'd brought him up to be strong and brave. To look out for the family. His shoulders were bare, the duvet sliding down his muscular arms. Golden skin, soft and pure. Barely touched. I realised then that he was naked. My own son, naked in my bed next to me. It wasn't right yet I couldn't bring myself to wake him up, to tell him to leave. I lay back down, my lips a little too close to his, feeling the warmth radiating off his body. I shouldn't have, but I liked it. I liked the fact that he was laying next to me, his sleeping virgin cock nudging against my stomach as he stirred. Whether he meant to be in bed with me or not i didn't know. Yet my skin tingled with arousal while I watched and listened to his pink lips open and close in his sleep.

I wasn't a pervert. I didn't enjoy children coming onto me, especially not my own sons. But something about Dean being that close to me comforted me. I knew he was safe there with me, in my arms, nothing could ever harm him. And to have that reassurance calmed me down. When his eyes flickered open hours after I had woken up I had expected him to jump out of my bed, disgusted and embarrassed. Instead, with tired eyes he looked straight into mine.

"I want you, dad..."

He'd grumbled. He tried to kiss me but I pulled away. I was so tempted to kiss him back hard. I'd wanted it too. I couldn't deny that. But I knew that, no matter how either of us felt, it was wrong and I couldn't take advantage of my teenage son just because his hormones were playing up a bit too much. I had _some _morals.

After that night we never spoke of it again. My relationship with Dean changed, we felt awkward around each other. Couldn't speak to each other anymore, hardly even be in the same room. Having to spend ever waking moment together, seeing each other, _wanting_ each other. _It was one night_, I used to tell myself over and over. _We'll both forget it sooner or later..._ I didn't know how wrong I was...

"Not coming out then tonight birthday boy?"

Sam grins at Dean, punching him in the shoulder. Dean glares back at him. Being his birthday it's one of those rare nights that us three Winchester boys don't go out hunting. I can tell by the look on Dean's face that he would much rather be out hunting right now than at home with everyone making a fuss of him.

"Dude, i told you. I am not coming with you and your gay ass friends to see who can floor the quickest..."

He grabs a can of lager and throws himself down onto the sofa next to me, placing his feet on the coffee table. As soon as I hear the door slam shut my heart falls. That awkward presence swims into the room again drowning us. Only the buzzing from the tv fills the room, the shades of grey flickering on Dean's face. His left leg, thigh to knee is pushed hard against mine, our shoulders touching. My mind go's back to that night, thirteen years ago as my eyes travel over the demin covering his thighs. Wanting so bad to explore every single inch of his body, to know just what makes him shiver. He casually lifts the bottom of his shirt exposing that golden skin that I know all too well, longing to touch him.  
This can't go on any longer. My son. He's my son. He shouldn't make me feel this way. My own flesh and blood, the boy I brought up, the boy that helped me get over Mary's death. That I leaned on through it all. This has to end.

"Dean..." I start.

"Dean, son. You know ever since that night. Some-something hasn't quite been... there between us."

He says nothing, just quietly lifts his head to look at me from under dark lashes. His face cold with anger and frustration yet lust, want...need.

"I want us to be like we were before Dean. I was so proud of you, still am but..."

I hesitate for a moment, my hand held on his knee, shaking. The merest flicker of expression crosses Dean's face, his tongue skims across his lips. Damn, he looks so hot right now, so vulnerable. So scared. Because he knows what I'm about to say.

But he sure knows how to make me contradict myself. One look at those green eyes staring up at me, holding back tears, holding back the truth. Looking into them, I don't want to have to hide the truth; I _need_ to, but how can I? How can I deny that I want the man sitting before me. That I love him. Telling Dean that this is wrong isn't going to stop anything thats going on in our heads, it'll just bury it deeper, makes the lies even stronger.

_Christ, I'm going straight to hell for this._

I pull myself over onto him, nudge my knee softly inbetween his legs.

"So... is this what you want?" I ask, my voice low and rumbling. He pushes into my knee, his cock already hard.

"Thirteen years Dean... _thirteen years _of wanting each other. And finally we're gonna do something about it."

I run the back of my fingers over his cheek. Hot slick skin sliding underneath my fingers. So new. I lean in closer my lips only a fraction away from his, pink and swollen. The sound of his lips parting sends shivers over my body. I fist his crotch, rough and unforgivenly.

"_This _what you want..."

He glances down at my hand stroking through the thick material and nods. Terrified, yet his eyes sparkling with desire.

"Oh, baby boy..."

I whisper, my lips brushing his as I speak. My tongue runs gently over my them, tasting him, before his lips capture mine. Hot, wet mouths clashing together, low moans. All that we've been wanting for much too long right here, happening.

My whole body tingles with lust, need. I could cum long and hard right now. But that's not the _John Winchester way_. I ain't gonna cum in my pants like a horny schoolboy just from a few kisses. Biting at his bottom lip, my tongue making excrutiatingly slow circles around his mouth. I'm sure going straight to hell. This was all kinds of dirty. Wrong, sick, perverse. But the feel of muscle under my hands, the taste of him in my mouth, the sounds he makes as his fingers glide up and down my back. They're all worth it. Fuck, they're worth it.


End file.
